


Connections

by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)



Category: Political Animals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseafrew/pseuds/Chelsea%20Frew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grandmother and grandson have a heart-to-heart after a near tragedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semirose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semirose/gifts).



> I struggled a lot with how to write this assignment until my BFF came up with an idea for me. Total credit goes to her for the idea. Any mistakes in executing it are completely mine. She also offered constant encouragement and a speedy beta job. Best BFF ever! Thanks, M!!

Margaret stood in the doorway of the hospital room for a long moment just taking in the scene before her.

T.J. was completely out. She didn't know if it was the effect of exhaustion or a sedative. Douglas was out, too, sprawled in a chair near the head of T.J.'s bed. Douglas's left arm stretched out so the edge of his left hand touched the edge of T.J.'s right.

It reminded her of when they were small. They had always been incredibly close, very protective of each other. She had expected that to dissipate as they grew older, but it hadn't. She guessed she could attribute that at least in part to the fishbowl that was the White House.

Margaret moved quietly into the room, walking to Douglas's side and resting a hand on his shoulder. He woke with a start and a gasp.

With weary, blinking eyes, he looked up at her. "Nana!"

"Dougie."

He rose and pulled her into a hug before collapsing back into his seat. His gaze tracked to T.J.

"How is he?" Margaret asked.

Douglas reached out to touch his brother's hand. "Alive. He's alive."

Margaret smiled. "Grab me that seat over there." She pointed out the chair identical to his that was on the opposite side of the bed. Douglas obliged and pulled the chair over so he and his grandmother could sit side by side.

As he sank back into his chair, Douglas asked, "Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Not far behind me. They each went to their offices to make sure their staff had their stories straight. They should be here in a little while." She reached her hand out to touch Douglas's. "How are you holding up, Dougie?"

Douglas shrugged. "I'm not the one who tried to kill himself last night."

Margaret smirked. "True enough. But it was your twin brother who tried to kill himself last night. How are you?"

Douglas didn't answer right away, instead lifting the heel of his right hand up to dig it into his forehead. He sighed and shook his head. "I don’t know. I don’t even know how to process this."

"Process this?" Margaret scoffed. "Your mother and her insistence upon therapy as a cure. Hogwash! You don't need to process anything. You just need to let yourself feel whatever it is you feel."

"They say that in therapy, too, Nana."

"Douglas," she returned in her best warning tone.

"Nana," he said, mimicking her tone perfectly.

"You always were a stubborn little thing. T.J., God bless him," she said. "T.J. was never half as stubborn as you. It's like you sucked in all the stubborn genes and took more than your share."

Douglas gave her a small, apologetic smile.

"Now, let's try again," Margaret suggested. "How are you holding up?"

Douglas pulled in a deep breath. "I just don’t get it. I don't get why he would do this."

Margaret shook her head. "You can grill him when he wakes up. Put that stubborn to good use."

"Nana, I had no idea," Douglas told her.

"No idea about what, honey?"

"That T.J. was in this much trouble."

"None of us did," Margaret countered.

"But he's my brother," Douglas countered right back. "My twin brother. How could I not know something was going so wrong in his life that he decided the best idea was to try to take it?"

Margaret squeezed his knee sympathetically.

"He doesn't talk to me anymore," Douglas went on. "Not about anything important."

"Dougie, you can't blame yourself for this. All the blame for this has to be on him." She gestured toward the still unconscious T.J.

Douglas shook his head. "No, I should have known."

"Douglas," Margaret said, her tone serious. "You can't always be responsible for him."

"I just…." Douglas trailed off, a lost look in his eyes.

"You just want to fix everything," Margaret finished for him.

"Am I really that predictable?"

Margaret shrugged. She took a moment to pick her words carefully, then asked, "Do you remember the year your father was elected president?The first time?"

Douglas nodded. "Mostly. We were pretty young."

"That was a grueling year, a tough campaign. Your parents were away a lot. I got a lot of babysitting overtime. I used to complain about it to them, but secretly--and you can't tell them this--I loved every minute. After raising such a serious, solitary girl, it was fun to be around two energetic little boys."

Douglas smiled. "We were a handful, I know."

"T.J. was all sunshine and light back then. Before the White House sucked that right out of him. You, though, you were more like your mother. Smart as a whip and always worried about making sure everything and everyone was going to be okay."

"Someone had to be. No one else was," Douglas was quick to remind her.

Margaret paused for thought, then admitted, "I was always a little jealous of you and T.J."

Douglas lifted his forehead quizzically. "Seriously?"

"You always seemed to have such a bond. Right from the beginning, too. You would both howl like monkeys if your mother tried to put you in separate cribs to sleep."

Douglas chuckled softly.

"I have never had a…," she hunted for the right word, "…connection with someone like the one you have with T.J. You each seemed to know what the other was thinking and feeling. And boy, did you have each other's backs. Do you remember giving that one kid a bloody nose because he looked at T.J. funny?"

"Justin Wexler. 5th grade," Douglas recalled easily. "And it wasn't because he looked at T.J. funny. It was because he called him stupid."

"I stand corrected," Margaret noted. "That's what I mean, though. You have always been there for each other."

"Not this time," he commented ruefully.

Margaret sighed. "It's never easy watching someone you love trying to destroy themselves."

"Not even a little."

"But, honey, there's only so much you can do. You have to let him figure it out."

"I don't know if I know how to do that," Douglas lamented softly. "He needs help, Nana."

"Yes, he does," she agreed. "And it will help him for you to be there. But it can't all be you, Dougie. It has to be him, too. He has to do the heavy lifting. And no matter how much you want to do it for him, like you have in the past, you can't."

"I haven't…." He trailed off at her withering look. "Okay, sometimes I have. But it isn't easy watching him self-destruct. Like you said, we're twins. I'm connected to him in a way I can't even explain."

"At some point, Douglas, you need to worry about yourself. You've got an important job and a gorgeous girlfriend. Those things need your attention, too."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"I do!" Douglas insisted. "But--"

She cut him off. "But nothing. You need to worry about you for a change."

Douglas drew in a deep breath. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Margaret stated haughtily. "No supposing about it."

A moan from the bed caught their attention. When they turned their heads in that direction, they found T.J. blinking his eyes, clearly trying to figure out what had happened.

Margaret stood from her seat. Moving closer to T.J., she placed her hand on top of his and then leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Do not think you're getting away without a lecture," she told him softly. "But I am thrilled you're here to get it."

She straightened and turned to lay a hand on Douglas's shoulder. "I'll just be out in the hall for a moment."

Douglas nodded. "Thanks, Nana."

Margaret bent down to retrieve her purse from beside her chair, then she headed for the hallway. As she reached for the handle of the door, she took a look behind her.

Douglas had rested his forehead on T.J.'s and was whispering something she couldn't hear from where she was. The sight made her smile. They were going to be okay. It might be a hard road, but they'd make it. 

"Hang tough, boys," she murmured. "Hang tough."

End (4 December 2012)


End file.
